


Giving Up

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Angst, Control Issues, Fingering, Introspection, M/M, Trust Issues, mild sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars





	Giving Up

Title: Giving Up  
Rating: NC-17 (m/m sexual encounter)  
Pairing: Finch/Reese  
Genre: introspection, control issues, trust issues, angst

NOTES: from a request by gauna-03 on Tumblr as a response to the wonderfully delicious illustration she posted. Gauna’s work is top notch and I can say from personal experience, very....VERY inspiring!! Thanks gauna, hope you enjoy this!!

**giveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveup**

**con·trol: v, con·trolled, con·trol·ling, con·trols**   
1\. To exercise authoritative or dominating influence over; direct.

**giveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveup**

_in the beginning........._

Finch liked control, _needed_ it in fact. From his earliest school days, through college and upon entering the cut-throat arena of corporate business; Harold wielded control as his ultimate weapon. 

In a society that constantly bombarded him images of what _real men_ looked and acted like; Harold knew his stature, slight build and more introverted, quiet behavior fell short of the ideal. So he maintained _control_. Of his appearance; through the use of perfectly tailored clothing and high end, handmade shoes. Of the loyalty and obedience of his unobtrusive yet highly attentive staff. By his choice of restaurants for ‘working lunches’ with colleagues and in the understated yet luxurious style of his offices. _Control_ of finances, of technology, of information....all of these countered, at least in the recluse's mind, his self-perceived flaws. 

Finch’s paranoia of letting anyone too close, of allowing them to slip inside the rigid boundaries of his carefully cultivated personas had been a challenge to John Reese. He’d seen from the very beginning how the billionaire used and guarded his _control_ in all situations. Back then Reese; angry, frustrated and in the throes of detox, had in his darker moments wanted literally to have Finch kneeling in front of him; stripped bare, his scars displayed, his precious _control_ destroyed so that Harold too could know how it felt to be helpless. 

As time passed, the ex-op became curious...wanting answers from the secretive man who blatantly stated that he knew ’exactly everything about’ Reese. John, who had come to trust Finch in all things craved that level of trust from Harold in return; indeed did all in his power to _prove_ himself worthy of it.

It had taken the better part of a year for Finch to _begin_ trusting Reese and almost two before Harold would allow himself to be intimate with John. Finch was no stranger to sex but with Nathan and Grace, Harold had still been healthy and whole; more than able to hold his own, even with the lanky, athletic Texan. After the explosion, the surgeries, the endless rounds of physical therapy and allowing Grace, for her own safety, to mourn him as dead; Finch retreated even further into his self-imposed isolation...unable to trust, for there was no-one left whom could....most certainly not with his now damaged body. For him to open up to Reese to that degree was a rare concession.

At first, Finch initiated their encounters almost exclusively and John, who by now had come to understand Harold’s needs better, willingly allowed Finch to maintain the upper hand. The recluse needed time to adjust....to see that John would not overstep Finch’s boundaries and would always listen if Harold said _“no”_.

**giveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveup**

_is now and ever shall be......_

 

The day started out much as any other where there was no number; with John inviting Finch back to his loft for lunch and hopefully, at least in Reese’s mind, the promise of more intimate activities. He never took any of his liaisons with Finch for granted. John knew how hard it had been for Harold to allow himself the luxury of enjoying another’s company and the ex-op would never abuse the privilege. 

Their meal enjoyed, Bear sent to his bed and with no communication from the Machine, Harold had felt relaxed enough to remove his jacket and waistcoat. John took advantage of Finch’s trip to the bathroom to change quickly into a t-shirt and sweats; leaving his feet bare. When Harold emerged, he was greeted by the sight of Reese’s shoulders and back covered in a thin layer of tight-fitting gray cotton. John finished up the dishes, wiping his hands dry on the kitchen towel before turning to smile at Finch.

“Come here....” the command was quiet, sounding more like a request but John obeyed instantly; crossing the room to stand in front of the older man. Finch reached out, stroking the planes of John’s chest with gentle hands, mapping out the musculature of shoulders...working his way down the firm abdomen and back up Reese’s arms. John’s body was relaxed and pliant beneath his touch and Harold felt a deep affection welling up inside himself.

It was a source of constant amazement to Finch that this man who was so strong and capable would want to be with him....someone who was everything John _wasn’t_. Yet here Reese was, wanting Harold every bit as much as Finch did him. The recluse stepped in, wrapping his arms around John’s waist and tilting his head up. 

John leaned down to kiss Harold, his lips opening obediently when he felt Finch’s tongue brush across them. Harold deepened it, tasting the flavors of coffee and a lingering sweetness of the liqueur they’d enjoyed after the meal. Without thinking, Finch pushed up onto his toes to wrap an arm around Reese’s neck and cried out as the muscles in his thigh locked up. He started to collapse only to feel Reese’s own arms close about his shoulders and waist; taking his weight and pivoting so that they landed on the bed, John underneath him.

Harold gasped; sucking in air through his nose and blowing out through his mouth as he tried to give into the spasms. His hands were clenched in John’s shirt and he could feel the tremors as his body reacted to the pain. Reese just held him, supporting Finch’s body with his own and making no attempt to massage Harold’s leg. This surprised Finch...most people’s instinct would be to rub the affected muscles to try and loosen them up; an action that would only result in making things worse. Harold knew his injuries well enough by now to know that the spasms would dissipate faster if left alone.

Finch risked a glance down at his companion. John’s eyes held a touch of concern, which Harold could not begrudge...he would feel the same were their situations reversed; but no trace of pity showed in the taller man’s gaze. He simply waited, patiently for Harold‘s cues. Sensing Finch’s curiosity, John smiled; the laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes clearly visible. _I’m here...._ the look said, _just tell me what you want; what you need. I‘ve got you._

“You okay, Finch?”

“I will be....need to let the cramps just run their course.”

John shrugged. “There‘s nowhere I‘ve got to be...”

Harold managed a chuckle. Even helpless as he was to move, Reese still managed to make it seem as if Finch were calling the shots. _Wasn’t that what a partner was supposed to do; be there to support you even as you supported them?_

Harold felt the strong arms cradling him; the comforting warmth of John’s body beneath his and, as if the sun had broken through thick clouds, the thought pierced his mind; _I can’t do anything...this is out of my control and I’m alright. John will make sure that I’m alright._ Finch’s whole body relaxed and he lay his head on Reese’s chest. Harold felt the warmth of John’s breath as his nose rubbed against his scalp; felt his lips kissing his forehead.

At length the pain receded, yet Finch found that he was loathe to move. For his own part, John seemed more than content to hold Harold; his fingers stroking small circles on the recluse’s back and hip. Finch was conscious of the touches, suddenly wanting more; wanting bare skin between them. 

“John....would you undress me?”

“Harold?” a wealth of questions colored the op’s reply.

Finch lifted his head and looked into the curious eyes beneath him. “I can’t in this position...I need your help.”

“Would you rather I moved? I can-”

“No....I _want_ your help.”

Reese inhaled sharply, realizing what Harold meant, what he was offering. Finch was _giving up_ control....willingly....to him. John felt how relaxed Harold was. Well, with the exception of the very pronounced erection pressing into Reese‘s abdomen, that is. Finch was okay with this, with _him_.

With great care, John released his hold on Finch; sliding his hands between their bodies to unbutton and remove Harold’s shirt. He worked his fingers down to Finch’s slacks, unbuckling the fine leather belt and releasing the zipper so that he could ease them and the silk boxers over Harold’s hips. 

Finch stayed passive, unresisting as he was stripped. He was impressed by Reese’s flexibility when he caught the waistband of Harold’s trousers in his toes to slide them the rest of the way off. John removed his own clothing; another feat that not only earned Finch’s admiration but roused his desire even more. At last they lay skin to skin, Harold enveloped by the warmth and security of Reese’s body.

“Whatever you like, John.....” Finch’s whisper was like a match to the tinder of the op’s libido. He knew what he wanted, what he’d _ached_ to do from the first time they had come together. He also knew that Harold would like it, if he _allowed_ himself to. Now it seemed Reese would have that chance.

Finch felt his glasses being pulled off his face; heard the quiet tap of their frames against the wood of John’s bedside table. He should feel fear as the world slid out of focus, knew that he would in any other circumstances but John would never hurt him; that knowledge was the one certainty Harold had left in his life. He waited, body lax and trusting, on Reese’s pleasure. 

John picked up the bottle of lube from the table and using his free hand, gently lifted Finch’s injured leg over his own hips. He could feel Harold’s heartbeat speed up but his body remained relaxed and John realized it was due to anticipation rather than fear. John slicked the fingers of one hand up and, wrapping his other arm snugly around Finch’s waist, slipped his lube-covered hand in between Harold’s buttocks. 

Harold gasped as he felt the wet, slippery fingers pressing into his crack and seeking.... _oh God...._ His hips arched up, cheeks spreading open wider as John’s fingers rubbed the tight sphincter hidden within them. _Oh....oh...._ Reese’s arm held him firmly in place and Harold found he liked the sensation. John could do anything with him, to him and he, Finch, would be unable to stop him. Harold gave himself up to the sensation of being possessed, trusting John to take care of him. 

Reese instantly felt Harold’s submission, felt the slight give in the recluse’s anus and added a second finger to his teasing massage of Finch’s ring. He took his time stretching and working Harold’s opening, reveling in each quiver and hiss his touch engendered. John was ecstatic.

To have Harold Finch, naked; his body draped unresisting over John’s; chin digging into Reese’s shoulder, was intoxicating. Harold’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth open...panting, mewling cries of need slipping past his lips. To feel Harold’s legs, splayed over his own; the recluse open, _vulnerable_ , wanting Reese’s touch was everything John could have desired and more. 

The position would not seem to be submissive to most people....Finch was on top after all and therefore maintained a measure of control, but Harold was not most people. It was in this position that Finch was in fact at his most helpless. His scars were visible, his back exposed; leaving him unable to counter any physical attack to his weakest points. Attempting to lift his bad leg over anything was an exercise in pain at the best of times; having both of them spread wide meant he was literally trapped in that pose until someone else helped him move. He’d never willingly placed himself in that situation, clothed or otherwise...until now.

Finch was literally at Reese’s mercy, in every way. He was fully dependent upon John’s touch to reach orgasm. If Reese decided to leave him wanting, even as he took his own pleasure, then Harold would have no choice but to accept it. Even when Finch was whole, he had never given up that aspect of his control....but now, realizing that John owned even that part of him now made him moan wantonly.

“John.... _please!_ ” Finch pressed his teeth against Reese’s shoulder as the op’s finger slid inside him.

“You like that Harold?” John’s voice was soft and seductive; sliding like velvet over Finch’s heated skin. “You want more?”

Harold mumbled an assent, but John shook his head, easing his fingers back out of Harold‘s opening. “I will only give you what you _ask_ for, Finch.”

Again, there was that thin illusion of giving Harold control but Reese knew Finch better than anyone. Knew just how very private this man was; how hard it was for him to express himself on a personal level. Harold felt his cock twitch, even as he whimpered at the loss of John’s touch. 

Reese would not respond to a command or even a suggestion. Harold must _ask_ to be touched. He felt his face flood with heat and knew there was no escaping from this....not if he wanted to reach completion. Finch had to overcome this last barrier, let go this final toehold of control in order to get what he so desperately desired. His insides writhed with shame for an instant but.... _this is John. Who will never harm me...who loves me and....whom I love._

That realization hit Finch like a freight train, knocking the last of his fears aside. He struggled to look the op in the face, blurry though Reese’s features were to him.

“Will you touch me John? Put your fingers inside me, _please?_ ”

“Of course, Harold.”

At once the teasing touches were back and Finch closed his eyes, gasping as he also felt Reese’s cock swell against his own.

“ _John_.....Would you go deeper? Will you stretch me?”

“Whatever you want, Harold....” John pulled his fingers out just enough to add more lubricant, then eased them back inside Finch. He tickled Harold’s walls with his fingertips, delighting when Finch’s muscles contracted around his seeking digits. 

_“Oh my God...yes....John!”_

Finch wanted John to go in still further and struggled to articulate his desires but, having a handsome ex-Ranger giving one a mind-blowing finger job made coherent speech more than a bit difficult. Harold took in a deep breath to settle himself and begged for what he needed most.

“John, will you please touch my prostate? I need....I want it, _you so much...please?!_ ” He was sobbing unashamedly now, his cock throbbing as John’s hips rocked against his own.

“Harold....I will _always_ give you what you ask me for.”

John pushed in a bit further until his fingers pressed against the bump at the base of Harold’s penis. He stroked the sensitive button of flesh, as Finch bucked and howled in his embrace. 

Harold was shaking, hanging on the very edge of his orgasm but not...quite...there. He sobbed in confusion.... _what was Reese waiting for?_ And then he realized. John wouldn’t finish him until Finch asked him to. It was so exquisitely simple...so beautiful and the one thing Harold thought he would never do...until now.

_“John....I want to come! Please, will you let me come?”_

“All you ever have to do is _ask_ , Harold.”

With that quiet, heartfelt affirmation, John swiped his finger over the stimulated gland once....twice......and pressed his lips to the crown of Finch’s head as Harold cried out, spilling himself over Reese’s belly. Even as Finch rode out his orgasm, he heard his partner’s grunt and felt the warm pulse of John’s own emissions mixing with his. 

Reese slowly withdrew his fingers, mindful of how sensitive Harold must be. He wiped his hand on the sheets _...my house, my rules_ he thought with a tinge of smugness. John cradled Harold against him and slowly rolled over so Finch lay on his good side. He got up just long enough to fetch towels and cleaned them both off. When he eased in beside Harold again, spooning the smaller man to his chest, John was happy to feel Finch clasp his hand, entwining their fingers.

“Everything alright, Harold?”

The billionaire remained silent, lost in thought for a long moment and John held his breath....praying that Finch wasn’t having regrets about what they’d just shared. As if sensing the op’s concerns, Harold squeezed his fingers in reassurance.

“Just thinking, Mr. Reese.”

“About?” a hint of worry laced John’s tone.

“That sometimes _giving up_ is the most wonderful feeling in the world.”

_“Harold.....”_ Reese hugged him close, kissing as much of Finch’s shoulder and neck as he could reach. The recluse’s quiet laughter was a balm to the battle-scarred soldier’s soul.

“I love you John.”

“Love you too, Harold.

**giveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveupgiveup**

NOTES: I’ll say it again....gauna’s art is smokin’ hot and she can throw temptation (cough, cough **_INSPIRATION_** I mean) my way anytime!


End file.
